


Can't get enough of your love for Canada, baby

by mapledrink



Category: dsdskdkaskdas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-07 01:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapledrink/pseuds/mapledrink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sorry dad</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laUURRRENNNN](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=laUURRRENNNN).



It'd been a while since he'd have a heavy night in the office-- the tenure of Mulroney going strong since it started-- and to think, the last guy he'd ever spoken to today was an old joe throwing rocks with tied-on american flags right out on his doorstep before getting escorted out by security.. 

Which who Brian Mulroney gladly told to go fuck himself

\--and though it'd been a little while, he'd been expecting some company about now. Not particularly a pissed of cabinet minister, surely anything but that... It was a 'Parliament thing'

The sworn in Conservative Leader raises his glasses, scritching behind his ear.-- rubbing his great jaw in wonder as he spied pass the little reading lamp by his desk to see a figure right by his door. Brian shuffled through his handbook of Reaganomics (an honored gift from his truly) and British Tory Hallmarks from Thatcher's parliament whatnot-- but he'd been snapped out of his thoughts by suddenly hitting something with his foot as he found an alloy canoe paddle just underneath his desk floor. He was certain a guy like John Turner hadn't an active bone his body-- true, the renovations were as crap as it was. But It seemed like it could have belonged to none other than... Now who the hell was it who called canoeing "spiritual"? It could have been none other than...

Another person angry of his views again? Oh hell yes. It was.

 

"Well, speak of the devil... " Brian's deep voice resonated around the room, while the figure at the door held his ground-- like spring cleaning in the smack-dab of winter--, "If it isn't the right & honorable Pierre Trudeau!" 

And there stepped into the noticeable light (who Thatcher called a "Liberal Leftist"), that of a man that when by the initials of PET; not a word of acknowledgement to say to the taller, progressive conservative Leader.-- not yet, anyway. 

General knowledge for those Quebecois at home: The Trudeau government was as gone and done and, the country needed change and, but hey, that's the politic business that Pierre Eliott Trudeau would know most of all.

"How ya doin , Pierre?" Mulroney rumbled in that deep voice of his, addressing the past PM as informally as possible to get his attentive.

/God/,.. .Pierre thought.. /Was he actually talking to him like that?/

 

Pierre gave a collective sigh. That "smart-ass" frown, which Brian Mulroney called it, knowing he hadn't changed one bit since his departure from office. It was rare he'd do it nowadays in the public eye. That frisky jubilant of his young days, like the top of his hair, gone. Brian hadn't even started the metaphors.

" Doing better than you would propose, Mister Brian Mulroney." The still eloquent, matter-of-fact Trudeau said in response, reciting his name in its formal entirety, making it known they were /not/ friends. If not, with faint boiling intuition, swift on his feet yet again, as he'd enter the room quietly and looked forth of the crisp suited man by his desk. Trudeau was wearing a flamboyant ascot tie, a bright red rose on his lapel, and regardless of the limelight of political glamour not on him anymore, (Pierre did his best to feel young while he still had it) he could distinguish himself from the darkness of notoriety, particularly contrasting in Brian's conservative tastes.

 

"The hell ya doin in my office?" another informal callout on Mulroney's part. Though concerned, he had a chuckling grin on his face like he was schooling Joe Clark on Stanfield federal economics.

 

Pierre gave a hint of a challenging facade. That of one he gave Joe Clark when he stuttered on one his past mistakes.

If Pierre fought Clark and Turner fought Mulroney, pundits liked to imagine what'd it be like if Trudeau and Mulroney went head to head.

"Well, Prime Minister, since John Turner had his stay in office for a limited time only, my stuff was still in the process of being recollected. Since you've won, 24  
Sussex belongs to the /Tories now/.. . The recollectors of buffoons can't tell whether its my claim or John's so... I'll be going now. "

 

"Pierre, Pierre.. Come have a seat."

The big man patted his desk. Pierre wondered if he'd inherent that from Richard Nixon's republican self-virtue of office.

And if that wasn't a compliment, Brian wondered if he inherited that spoiled attitude from his governments spending.

 

"Listen, Pierre, You're not gonna get through life shrugging like that."

 

"And what if I don't, Brian?" Pierre interjected, leading himself into the office like he hadn't retired from office at all.

 

"Well," another pause in thought, Brian's brows perpetually knitted together in what looked like Mulroney's typical feigned apathy. A future michael Madsen would be jealous-- hell, /voice/ wise anyways. "Well, then I won't go off on how Castroisms failed Cuba's economy."

"Oh, go recite your buddy Reagan's stories elsewhere." Pierre dismissed him, collecting a few Polaroids and Ornaments from a box.

 

"I'll tell you what, Trudeau--"  
Mulroney reached for the oar on the floor, that belonged to none other and he raised it in the air.

"Does this happen to be the property of Trudeau establishment?"

 

Pierre turned his attention to the familiar object and narrowed his slit eyes.

"Give that back."

"Geesh, you're just as boring as no-name brand.~ Come and get it."

Brian patted the end of the oar on his open palm like a stubborn housewife.

 

Pierre strides forth, reaching his hand and expecting Brian to give it to him. "You speak of the bilingual brand of no-name, yet you intend to let Quebec go on its own separatist regard.." He harrumphed one last time, until Brian took one step too close for comfort.

"Can't get enough of your love for Canada, baby.~" Brian Mulroney sang lowly in Pierre Trudeau's ear in that orgasmic soul voice of Barry White.  
He slid the canoeing oar in the former Prime Minister's hands, as promised, and he stepped back-- still too close for comfort.

 

Trudeau couldn't help but notice his own facial features feeling inferior compared meager to his strong jawline.

He soon felt a warm hand clamp down on his back, scrunching the La Maison Simons-pressed fabric of Pierre's suit.

Brian blew hot hair on his hot skin and kissed him gently upon those plump, pursed lips of Pierre's.

Pierre instantly grabbed the oar of his canoe, clouding his mind before Brian whispered further;

"but 'cuz of the deficit you left me to deal with, I ain't gonna fuck ya, either"

 

He patted his back and turned around to his desk.

 

Trudeau was good as done here, turned to the door, and flipped off the 18th prime minister of Canada as soon as he pirouetted off.

 

.... And Trudeau wasn't the same since then.

 

\---

 

 

 

\--

The other day, Pierre Trudeau was reported in the news calling Mulroney "a malcontent rebel" in a Montreal church;-- Oh he ought to call him that. The fact Mulroney made him daydream of a voice other than his owns has daunted and infuriated him to this day


	2. Where the sun always shines in Montreal

"Hey... " Brian mumured,

 

"I want nothing to do with you." Pierre snapped.

 

"Hey whats the matter I thought we had something special?"

 

Pierre smiled defyingly. From what he read of those eyes, he knew it already. and he liked a challenege when he saw one.

 

"How'd you like to be my Foreign affairs minsiter? Just this once. I know you like to travel."

"Please, Brian. With all that's happened, you don't honestly i'll accept that easily, do you?"

 

 

\---

 

it was a weird afternoon. sure it was. another day in the hot office..

Mulroney went up on his speech pedestal, addressing the crowed.

 

"Your excellencies, Justices of the supreme court of canada. les juges de la Cour suprême du Canada. and People of Canada of lives we improved."

 

He gave a little smile as he flipped the page.

"I'm happy to announce that a man you might know as former PM PET is our new minister of foreign affairs."

A few laughter and silent gasps here and there-- Like he always expected. It was like admitting to work with the bad guy.

"If he doesn't go pirquetting behind the British Prime Ministers back that is--" a few laughs from the staff of the supreme court as he looked on.

 

Alright, perhaps that last phrase was said in the limited privacy of his own cabinet ministers.

 

\--

 

"You're not any better!" Brian accused, pointing his finger accusingly. His mouth sneered in that big surface of that face of his.

Pierre rolled his eyes and was already headed out the door, until Brian snatched his arm.

 

"Hey, hold still... "

Brian's eyes looked down to his rose and flicked back up at Pierre's snooty face. "Do you mind if I--?" his mouth grabbed at the fake petal, slowly peeling it off its lapel and soon he lowered down, and heaved the Liberal by the legs and over his shoulders.

 

"What on EARTH do you think your doing??"

"Takin' you where the sun always shines in Montreal."

 

And Pierre groaned exasperatedly and swore; if he saw the front of that chin again, he'd punch it.


End file.
